


Crossfire

by meinu



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety Attacks, Assault, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Drugs, F/F, F/M, Gang Violence, Gangs, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Medication, Minor Character Death, Multi, Panic Attacks, Pregnancy, References to Drugs, Unplanned Pregnancy, Violence, Weapons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-07-18 13:32:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16119494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meinu/pseuds/meinu
Summary: Her heels click as she moves, manicured nails snatching the cigarette from his mouth and in a low voice, she speaks to him. "You have until the end of the year to come up with fifty thousand dollars, or you won't live to see yourself have children. And, you're not to bring up our past in the classroom, or your time gets cut shorter. Do I make myself clear?"He doesn't make any noise, or even move. It earns a smile from the woman and a, "Good." before she walks past him.John looks over his shoulder, with an overwhelming sense of panic beginning to set in on his already broken and bruised ribs.Fuck, he thinks.





	1. D.N.A

**Author's Note:**

> Before you say anything --- yes! I do plan on including ALL of those characters/relationships into the story. This has been brewing in the back of my mind, and honestly, I'm ready to put it on here in hopes that you guys enjoy it, too. I should mention that this hasn't been beta'd by anyone, yet, so it's probably a little choppy, but I'm nervous and this is usually when I decide to post my fanfics, so it's going to be unbeta'd.
> 
> Enjoy! Leave feedback if you can / are able / want to! It'd be definitely appreciated!

**6:45 A.M**

An insufferable ringing echoes into the depths of his sleep, and he groans a noise that sounds like the dead in those television shows he enjoys all too much. Blankets shuffling with the movement of his body, it rolls off of his shoulders when he sits up and turns his phone on -- grimacing, wincing, at the bright light shining into his eyes. Adjusting his eyes, panic sets onto his body.

Blankets half thrown onto the floor, rumbling footsteps shaking the floorboards as the weight of a lanky and scrawny teenager trails throughout the house; water running, the toilet flushing. Clothes torn off of hangers from the closet with a litany of curses following in suit, he opens the refrigerator door to grab an alcoholic beverage and approaches a woman; black hair darker than his, face hugging the glass table of the living room with drool coming from her lips.

"Hey," He nudges her, "I gotta go."

"Hmm?" She looks up, dazed and confused. "John?"

"Yeah, here."

He shoves the aforementioned beverage at the woman, wasting no time to slide his shoes on while she mumbles something -- he's not sure if it's a collection of  _thank you_ ,  _i'm sorry_ ,  _you're the best son_ ,  _you're the worst son ever_ , or whatever it may be; but he doesn't have any time to actually decipher her incoherent ramblings. He opens the door and slams it behind him, also not caring to lock it behind him.

Running down the steps, John jumps over the fence and takes off down the streets as quick as he can. He crosses multiple houses and patio's, but settles on trespassing a certain patio he's all too familiar one --- it belongs to the Mayor's son, a kid named Wells whom John's already declared a "spoiled brat" --- and takes the fancy, expensive bike from their property. He jumps onto it, and takes off down the street even more. At this point, the Jaha resident already know and suspect that John's the thief, but haven't done anything about it because Wells told his father not to.

Whatever.

Following a path all too familiar, John continues pedaling and only stops at a train track where a current train passes. He sighs with exasperation, but digs through his back-pack while waiting to pull out his cell phone and headphones, he figures he'd listen to music. He browses his Spotify playlist that, admittedly, isn't actually his own either (it belongs to his friend, Mbege, who pays for it every month, but thankfully, John has his own playlist because his best friend is amazing) and plays songs through his earbuds. After a couple of minutes, he begins riding once again.

He approaches a prestigious, fancy looking building where he abandons the bike half-way in the road without any care at all, and begins climbing the many steps it takes to get to the entrance. John passes by a sign that says  _Welcome to Arkadia University_ , where a Janitor attempts to clean the graffiti that was drawn on it over the night. He takes another set of stairs when inside, and follows his usual pathway to a classroom with closed doors. He'd hoped to get at the school prior seven in the morning, but his phone currently says  _7:15 A.M_ and he winces, hoping Professor Winters won't mind it as she normally does.

He opens the door as quietly as possible, after discarding his headphones, and hopes to sneak in only to hear a voice call out his name.

"Mr. Murphy." The woman who was once writing on the chalkboard states, turning around. "Late as usual."

"Slept through my alarms." He shrugs it off, taking a seat in the far corner where he can be alone.

"Every day this week, you've been late."

"And your point?"

"Stop making it a habit. You asked for the mornings in my class, so you got the mornings. If you didn't want it, or don't right now, please by all means -- see Mrs. Cerra, she can change your schedule. Or, the next step is seeing Mr. Pike every time you're late." She smiles, and turns around to continue her lecture, as if the inconvenience and singling him out never occurred.

He leans back in his seat, defeated. Chewing at his bottom lip, it takes him five minutes all together to find the energy to pull his laptop out of his back-pack and begin taking notes. He puts his headphones in, not to listen to music, but because he knows that eventually, people around him begin to think that he does listen to music, and this allows him to know what people are saying about him. He's not generally the topic of gossip, especially not in his class, but it does occur every now and again.

* * *

He only has two classes in a day, all scheduled for the morning. While his teacher, Professor Winters, does make an excellent point -- he scheduled it that way so that he can pull an actual forty hours a week from work. At this point, he's the only one actually supporting both him and his mother at their tiny, broken first floor apartment that's in an, admittedly, dangerous part of the neighborhood because his mother would rather drink herself into a slumber every night while he's ranking up overtime after overtime every day at work.

John was surprised, in high school, when he was accepted into Arkadia. He didn't think he did anything worth while to allow the school to accept him, but he didn't have terrible grades as one would've thought. He did do a few extra credit classes, and pushed for Arkadia, but thought he would've gotten stuck with some deadbeat college that isn't properly funded. His friends -- Mbege, Emori, and Miller -- were also accepted, as well, so it was a win-win situation in his opinion. Nonetheless, he's been there for two years already, so it wasn't like they messed up or anything.

Hopefully, they still didn't.

He was lucky enough to apply for a couple of grants and financial aid, so he only has to pay a certain amount while the aforementioned two takes care of a certain percentage. He will have to pay them back, though, which gives him anxiety thinking about.

"Hey, Murphy!"

Looking around, John finds the person who yelled for him.

"I thought you all had class." He asks, approaching a small group at a table.

"Mbege here's skipping." Emori chuckles, "And mine ended early."

"Aw, c'mon, Mbege. If you get kicked out, who'll keep me company?" John asks with a smirk.

"I mean," Mbege gestures to Emori.

"Yeah, but she keeps me company outside of the school." He adds, a look to Emori with a wink.

Emori rolls her eyes, taking a drink of her soda while Mbege starts laughing.

"Besides, no one said that to do _Video Game Design_ , you have to have a degree." Mbege remarks, "It's just more easier to have one."

"Yeah, wouldn't want to end up like John, on a barista salary." Emori murmurs into the edge of her Pepsi can, before downing the rest of her drink like a shot.

"Excuse you," John begins, "It's not a barista salary, anymore. Okay? I'm working in the library, now."

Mbege makes a scrunched face, Emori takes a deep breath.

"Whatever makes you happy, bro." Mbege pats John's shoulder.

"It doesn't." Both Emori and John counter at the same time, 

"I'll get a better job when I graduate." John finishes.

"Can't wait for  _therapist_ Murphy." Mbege lets out a laugh, earning a hit to his ribs by his best friend. "Hey!"

"Whatever, screw you guys." John rolls his eyes, and begins walking away; the two of them not foreign to the sudden middle finger he gives them.

The path to his new job is surprisingly not that hard to remember; it's only a block down his house, which is convenient in his opinion. It helps the overwhelming panic and stress in his life dwell downwards, because he thinks about how he can go straight home and not have to pass any parks or bridges where the homeless like to sprawl out and then beg for money when someone with even better clothes than them passes by -- when in reality, he's close to joining them. Nonetheless, he only has to worry about the gangs at night that like to haunt the night.

Work is boring.

He's been staring at the clock for several minutes in one moment. He does one thing when someone walks in, then excitedly looks at the clock to see if maybe, just maybe, it was enough for time to go by faster, only for his hopes and dreams to be shattered because, no, it didn't. He doesn't even remember how many people has come in, but he'd guess only ten within the last four hours, and he'd probably be correct. Staying awake is another struggle he has to make sure to do -- he's already, within the two weeks of working there, been written up for accidentally falling asleep. Apparently, "This place is boring" isn't the best excuse to give, because it cited another write up.

It's different when John looks up from his comic book, stolen from the shelf until later, and finds the residential Princess awaiting his assistance.

"Clarke Griffin." John begins to jeer,

"I'm in need of a text book." Clarke pulls the one from her bag, and surprisingly, it's torn to shreds. "My daughter got into it."

He remembers how the school reacted, and how everyone reacted, when Clarke Griffin's pregnancy was announced. She got pregnant from a fellow student that he'd known since third grade, but the two drifted their separate ways -- he wasn't concerned with the pregnancy, he was just shocked that, unlike many girls who exploit the fact that it was a fraternity party and house, Clarke didn't claim  _rape_ or anything. She said it was consensual on both ends, which admittedly, brought forth months of drama surrounding Finn Collins, Clarke Griffin, and Raven Reyes. But, Clarke had a girl.  _Madi,_ John thinks is her name.

"This is, what... Book number four?" John inquires with a mischievous lilt in his voice.

"Number six." Clarke scrunches her nose at him. "Madi likes to get into everything of mine. It's exhausting, but I'll manage."

"Of course, especially with mommy paying the bills."

"Either let me pay for it, or I can shove this down your throat."

John rolls his eyes, pulling up her student file from the card. "You're the most interesting customer today."

"Really?" Clarke looks around, "I thought I was the  _only_ customer."

"Ha, ha. That textbook is... Like, three thousand dollars."

Clarke closes her eyes, letting out a sigh. John knows that look all together -- it reminds him of every time he decides to go and buy that brand new game he's been wanting, thinking that maybe,  _just maybe_ he can afford it. Maybe, he's been good; working over forty hours in a week. Maybe, he deserves it, but then there's that voice in the back of his head telling him no,  _you don't_ and he can tell it's the same struggle with Clarke right now. He knows that, by law, she kind of has no choice in paying it either way; he just wonders if she knows she can do it either later, or in little payments.

"You know, you can--"

"Pay it off in payments, I know." Clarke opens her eyes, "I don't feel... Comfortable with that."

"Why are you stressed? Your mom is... The best medical Doctor in the world. She's so highly overpaid, it's ridiculous."

"Because my money isn't from my mom." Clarke fishes through her purse, "If you need to know that, nose-y."

Before John can say anything more, perhaps an apology, Clarke shoves not one, but two credit cards, in his direction.

"My max limit for all of these banks is two thousand a day, so, I can't pay all of it off on one credit card."

"Look, I didn't know..."

"It's complicated. Just please, take them."

John, reluctance heavy and clear, takes them from her. After figuring out how to work the machine, he's managed to take three thousand from her. Returning her cards back, with clicking of her wedges against the linoleum floors; he watches as she throws it into the trash prior to finding another book that, no doubt, Madi would terrorize and destroy. The clicking dissipates into nothing as soon as it's met with carpeted flooring.

It's closing.

Before locking the front doors, something causes him to stop. Eyebrows furrowed, John replays back his day; he's helped so many people, and he, admittedly, watched them all leave. Except for one. It dawns on him that, no, he didn't see (or hear) Clarke leave the building which arises more suspicion, because he figures that her main objective would've been to go back home, take care of her daughter and study to, unfortunately, follow in her mother's footsteps. So, he weasels his way back into the building to hunt down the blonde woman who is shorter than him, even in heels.

He finds her, slouched over her textbooks. Drool dripping onto the pages of the book, she's fast asleep; arms helping keep her head in a comfortable position. A part of him kind of wants to take a photo, use it for blackmail, but the other part knows that yes, she doesn't need that drama or anxiety, so he decides not to. Instead, he approaches her as if she's just going to jump out at him and tear at his throat -- when he gets to her side, he deems it safe enough to wake her.

Gently, John shakes her.

"Clarke."

"What?" Clarke shoots up, into sitting position. "Where am I?"

"You're still in the library."

"What time is it?"

"Eleven.... O'five? I think, now?" He shrugs.

She rubs at her face, digging fingers into the corners of her eyes and dragging them down. "Alright, I'm sorry."

"You're fine." He shrugs, once more.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep. It's just.. Madi doesn't like her sleep schedule, so now she wants to sleep during the day, and--" She sighs.

"Hey, I have an alcoholic mother, I understand in a way. Come on, I gotta get you outta here."

"It's fine, I'll call an Uber." She pauses, "Will you let me check out this book really quick?"

He lets her, knowing it'll full well cause a dispute between his manager and himself tomorrow. By the time he's done locking up, a car's already pulled up and Clarke makes her way to it; John kicks a rock down the stairs, and then follows the same path down until he decides to go down the street towards his house, hands pocketed in his jacket before he hears a familiar shrill of his name behind him.

"Murphy!" Clarke yells out, halfway in the car. "Are you walking?"

"Yeah, I don't have a bike or car." John yells back.

"What happened to Wells'?" 

"Eh, got bored of it."

"Do you want to split a car ride? My place is before yours."

"I don't have money." John shrugs his shoulders.

"I'll pay for it." Clarke offers a smile.

He weighs the pros and cons of it, and ends up in the backseat of the car. The warmth of the heater warms him up almost instantly, and he feels better already -- he can feel his fingers and toes in the soon to be winter cold air. The driver, although nice in supplying practically everything, is rather quiet and doesn't speak as much; John, however, jumps on the fact that the man has a USB cable that fits his phone which is, coincidentally, on 3% after the whole day. He mumbles to himself that he has to uninstall some games, and doesn't know if Clarke caught onto it or not. She doesn't make a comment, or anything, really.

Her house, he remembers it being three stories and rather beautiful; it has glass windows that go all around the bottom floor, but stops before you can see inside of the kitchen. When they arrive, her house is the same as it's always been -- three stories, glass all around the bottoms with podiums at the entrance that keeps the balcony above them stable and sturdy. He analyzes every little bit of it, and then wonders how it's only been broken into once in the whole years that it's been standing. Nonetheless, Clarke moves out of the car and hands Murphy a fifty dollar bill, knowing full well that his part of the ride would only be twenty.

"Keep the change." She tells him with a smile and makes way up the two flights of steps in a hurried motion.

When she opens the door, she drops her things and can make it barely a step into the house before a tiny little toddler comes bombarding her with hugs and kisses. Clarke, with a smile so wide, seems happy and so does the little girl -- then it dawns on him that he's watching more than he should. He tells the driver his address, and while they begin moving, he watches from afar until Clarke closes the door and he can't catch sight of the house.

"She your ex or somethin'? The driver asks, suddenly.

He looks at the driver through the rear mirror, and takes a moment to respond with: "Or somethin', yeah."

_Air nipping at his skin, he remembers the way her hands felt against his when she took them. Her hands, warm and soft, felt good in contrast to his and he remembers never wanting to let go, either; it was melancholy in all the stages. The two stand in a cemetery, something he's visited his entire life over and over and over again; it's her turn. They stand before a gravestone that reads, "Jacob Miles Griffin: loving father, loving husband". She starts crying and the only thing he can do is give her a hug because that's what best friends do. And he'd hoped that, that's what lovers do._

"We were friends." He says.

"Mh-hm."

When they reach his place, he hands the money to the driver who takes his total and hands the change back to John. It doesn't take him long to climb out of the car, phone in hand and begin making way to the gate that he has to shimmy open because it's been broken for years; it takes him a moment, but he finally gets it open. However, something pulls him back onto the ground.

"Jonathan Murphy." A woman with a haunting voice speaks, "You have money for a car ride, but not for us?"

His eyes unscrew from the pain that radiates in his back, and they open to find a group of four hovering over him. The woman; she has hair that makes to the beginning of her rib cage with brown roots and blonde ends. She crouches down to his level and cocks her head with a sadistic smile on her features.

"Anya, before you get the wrong idea, someone gave me that money."

"Now, you know... Money you get, regardless how you get it, is ours. Right?"

"...Right." John swallows.

Anya digs through John's pockets, and when he protests, the other three hold him down; two place their legs onto his biceps with enough pressure to cause a scream. After she digs through the entirety of all his pockets and scrounge up all of his change, she stands up and counts it in silence. "Fifty three dollars."

"Wow, I had fifty three dollars?" John laughs, "Must've been my lucky day before you came along."

"You're right, it must've been." She walks past two of her men, with a nod of her head.

One of the boots connect itself to his ribs, with a bone cracking noise. It causes John to scream out in pain, blood staining his bottom lip. It doesn't stop there -- one even gets to his level to punch him several times, while the other continues kicking him and one holds him back. He doesn't remember what happens next, only that it doesn't end pretty when his body's coping mechanism is to black out and escape the pain.

* * *

The smell of lavender and roses tickle his nose, causing it to scrunch up until the sudden distribution of pain echoes faintly in his system. He seethes through his teeth, whimpering and wincing with the bright idea to keep his eyes screwed shut because he hopes that maybe, just maybe, it's all a dream and his body fell entirely to sleep. Oh yeah, seems like a logical explanation.

No, he opens his eyes and is met with a bright, white room. He remembers the surroundings, and can trace it like the inside of his hand -- except, that plant and chair is new. Nonetheless, he hears people move around him while his vision begins to adjust to the original setting. He breathes out in an almost euphoric manner when the feeling of pain dissipates on him. He realizes that it's morphine entering his system, and he hopes, he prays, that he's not actually an addict. Not that it matters, not that the healthcare system would care; it meant he used, and if he did, they got paid in several ways.

"You're making a lot of friends, John." A woman says, reviewing his chart.

"Hey, Abby." He smiles with a bloody, toothy smile. "Yeah, I'm very charming."

"You have four broken ribs and a broken nose."

"Only four?" He smirks, "It feels like five. Better up my dose."

"Jonathan." Abby sternly says.

"I'm kiddin', doc."

Silence engulfs the room while she reviews his situation. He doesn't know what it says, or what it would say this time, but either way, she's quiet and not getting on his case more so than usual. It's peaceful enough, he thinks, and decides to close his eyes only for it to be short lived when Abby decides to speak up once more, and it's with a tone he's never heard her say, and a sentence he'd once hope she wouldn't say to him: "I don't want you near my daughter ever again."

"What?"

"You carpooled home with her. Stay away from her." Abigail sets the chart down.

"No, she bought the Uber ride, and happened to invite me." He struggles to breathe, "What's wrong with her seeing me? Weren't we best friends?"

"That's before Jake died. That was before your mother got addicted. Hard." Abigail seethes, "She has a daughter, she doesn't need this."

"You let Finn... Near her, but not me because I'm lower class? Ouch." He moves, ignoring the pain.

"It's adviced you don't move." She begins, but he interrupts.

"But, you'd rather see me in pain." He takes the tape off, which lets him take the I.V out at the same time.

"I let Finn around her, because Madi is his daughter and he's about to graduate."

"Abby, don't even." He slips his jeans on, followed by his shirt and jacket which are heavily stained with his blood.

Before she can even say another sentence, John leaves the room sans socks and shoes.

It was a different time, back when he and Clarke grew up together; side by side, them against the world. Abigail Griffin knew his father, Alex, and the two had grown up themselves; they promised each other,  _our kids will be best friends!_ back when Alex married his mother, Adaline, and Abigail married Jake. She was pregnant first, followed by Adaline and as they planned, the offspring's were best of friends. John adored Clarke growing up, hated that she was his senior by a couple of months, but the two of them were friends and how he yearned for that time -- after Alex had died, and Jake not too long after, Abigail sheltered Clarke from the darkness of the world. Seemingly, she thought he'd be a bad influence on her now that his mother excessively drank until she managed to make God himself kiss her feet.

 _It's not my fault_ , he thinks as he trails home in an ever slow pace. He'd checked himself out against the receptionist's plead for him to stay. He thinks,  _it's not my fault,_ over and over. He was never good at making friends. It was a miracle when he met Mbege, whom shared the same first name with him; but it wasn't exactly a miracle, the two of them were put into the same foster home before Adaline actually made an effort to prove she was a psuedo-good parent enough for John to come back. They kept in contact, and the two were inseparable for a while. Then, he met Emori by chance, too. She was new to Arkadia, and the high-school as well. New, and missing a hand. She was bullied, he put them in their place.

He makes it to his gate, it creaks beneath his touch and moves louder than his shuffling. Walking up the stairs is more painful than he thought it'd be, but he swallows down the pain and holds his ribs. The door's unlocked, which is both good and bad -- good, because he'd forgotten his keys, and bad because, well, he had a cat that he tolerated. Thankfully, it greets him with its consistent meowing the second the door opens, and he sighs with the realization that his mother's neglected to feed him.

"John." Emori's voice startles him, "Are you okay?"

"What are you doing here?" John asks, shuffling to the kitchen.

"I... Didn't get your text that you made it home safely. I got worried." Emori remarks, following. "I fed your cat."

"You did?" John stops his tracks, hands hovering over the handle to the fridge; he peers over to the cat's dishes. "Then why's he meowing?"

"Maybe, he missed you." Emori smiles, soft and gentle.

"Did you visit me while I was out?" He opens the fridge, blocking off the view of his girlfriend for a brief moment.

"Yeah." She begins, "Mbege and I both did; we brought you the flowers."

"The... Lavenders, right?" He closes the door with his elbow, holding a soda can between his fingers. "And whatever else."

She nods, following after him to the living room. "And, I moved your mother to her bedroom -- with Mbege's help, also."

"And you cleaned." He looks around.

"Yeah, which you're paying me for. It'll be thirty dollars." She holds out her hand.

Instead of finding money, he leans over and kisses her cheek: "I don't have money, but thank you."

"I know." She smirks.

Sitting down is difficult, but he manages. A slight wince on his tongue while he positions himself into a comfortable state, and his cat is more than hasty to jump onto his lap. The feline curls up in the space between his legs and props his head onto John's thigh, while Emori sits beside her boyfriend; the PlayStation makes the familiar noise when it's turned on, and soon the television follows in suit. He decides to put on a show, something about vampires and werewolves, and loses interest in it, jumping to some of the Netflix original shows, and then to another, and then another. He jumps back and forth, much to Emori's ire, before settling back on the previous first show and staying there for a while; he dozes off, only to wake up in moments of painful bursts and then head back to sleep.

By the time it's seven P.M, he hears the front door slam shut and it jolts him awake, causing pain to radiate all over his body.

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry." Mbege sucks air in through his teeth.

"What are you doing here?" John groans.

"Brought you and Emori food. Along with three others." He gestures behind him.

Behind him are the resident newbies at Arkadia University that the three of them made friends with: Fox Beuchner, Zoe Monroe, and Harper McIntyre. Except, Harper's been there for years. Fox and Monroe have been there for a little below five months, and have already dipped into what is considered the  _"dangerous"_ crowd, dubbed by Charles Pike and perhaps, everyone in the entire school -- they have no problems hanging out with the three of them, however, and are quick to jump onto Murphy's adjourning couch. Zoe plops herself down onto the floor, while Harper and Fox take the two available seats.

"You realize my mom'll be awake soon, right?" John throws his head back.

"Nope, I gave her ten beers." Emori remarks, patting the open spot for Mbege. "She'll be fine up until we leave."

Mbege places seven bags of food from three different restaurants onto the wooden table in the living room, and sits next to Emori. "I didn't know what you wanted, and Fox wanted Taco Bell, so, we kind of hopped. Help yourself."

Fox immediately snatches the only Taco Bell bag that laid there. Six bags, three from Burger King and then three from McDonalds. Murphy grabs one of the bags from Burger King, and takes one of the chicken sandwiches out of it while Emori takes a large fry from the McDonalds bag along with her usual sweet & sour sauce. Mbege, Zoe and Harper blindly grab whichever while watching the show that, this time, Emori chose. Eventually, the six of them are eating and enjoying their show.

Emori's episode of her show ends, and Mbege is quick to snatch the remote from her to put on a show that features violence and blood.

"We should get going." Zoe says, after the clock's turned to 11:54. "Fox and I need to be up at 7am."

"Why the fuck do you need to be up at 7am?" Mbege intercepts John's clearly same inquiry.

"I'm an idiot who accidentally scheduled her class for 7am. Fox took advantage of this and scheduled her dentist appointment for that time, too. So, I can drive her and then drive to school." Zoe gives a side glance to Fox who can barely contain a cocky smile.

"You need to get your license, Fox." Harper remarks, eating one of the McDonalds fries that -- no doubt -- are cold and soggy.

"I'm trying, but between classes and Monroe's stick shift car, I don't have the time." Fox weasels her way out from between Monroe and Harper.

"Bye, be safe." Emori says to them as they slip their shoes on; it earns goodbyes all around before Fox and Zoe are out the doors.

Harper's the next one to go, she remarks that being in the dorm alone is rather scary but routinely, her rommate is always in by 1am. This allowed her to pass time, and on her way out, she wishes John to get better. After five seconds, a familiar roar of her Jeep comes to life in the driveway before it disappears down the road. Mbege, John, and Emori watch the rest of Mbege's show, which leaves off on a cliffhanger and thoroughly upsets him.

"Hey, is it cool if I crash here tonight?" Mbege says, after calming down.

John, not focusing too much on the question and more his pain, nods his head. "Yeah, I don't care."

"John, do you know if they prescribed you medication?" Emori eases into the question.

"Probably not, Abby was my Doctor."

"She can't deny you medication." Emori begins, "Not unless you've had history of using."

"I know, but I'll be fine. Mbege should have his vape like usual."

"Yeah, I gotta grab it from my car." And with that, Mbege moves with a jump in his step out the door.

Emori traces circles into the exposed skin of John's forearm, and he eases into the motion; allowing himself to get lost into the feeling. He places his head into the crook of the couch where the arm meets the cushions, and tries to breathe around the pain that follows with every rise and fall of his chest. He pulls his bottom lip between the two sets of his teeth to bite onto it, hoping that the pain doesn't make it clear anymore than it already has to Emori, or Mbege. She continues to draw circles, and he's sure she's bored of it, but knows that it's soothing to him so she doesn't stop, and won't stop.

The two help him to the bottom bedroom. Mbege gives John his vape that's filled with CBD oil, and it relaxes him enough to go to sleep. It's habitual, whenever he's in pain -- Mbege and Emori crash at his place, to be that extra source of comfort, and Mbege always loads his secondary vape up with CBD oil for him to relax. Just as it is habit, Emori removes her clothing with the door closed and slips into one of John's shirts that show her underwear were she to move fast or bend over and opens the door afterwords; she slips into the bed beside him and positions herself comfortably.

Mbege grabs a blanket from the spare closet and sneaks into John's room to grab one of his spare pillows, as well, and makes home on the couch. At one point in the middle of the night, Adaline stumbles downstairs and wakes Mbege up; she barely says a coherent greeting to him before she's back into her usual spot on the floor with a beer in hand and the television on. He's learned to sleep through it, as has Emori and John. One beer equals two, leading to three, four, five, and she's out within the hour; Mbege moves out of his comfortable spot to turn the television off and returns back to sleep. 

* * *

 

The next couple of days are rather hard on John. He tries to move, function, even breathe with broken ribs and they've become a pain for him. On the fifth day, he decides not to suffer and heads to the hospital for them to bring up his last visit summary so that he can determine if they put him on medication -- which, surprise, they didn't because he discharged earlier. Cursing mentally at Abby, he decides to check himself in and the new Doctor he sees in replacement is rather kind and understanding, and after thirty minutes, decides to put him on pain medication for him.

He takes a couple after they're in his possession, in the middle of the building, and shoves them in his back-pack in hopes that Anya and her goons won't attack him for having it in his possession. John heads to class the next day, feeling only slightly better. Professor Winters hasn't gotten on his case as of recent due to his condition, so he begins weighing the pros and cons of what it'd be like if he were to be hospitalized for several weeks -- maybe she'd be kind, give him all A's so that he can pass despite not learning anything, but then he realizes that no, she won't do that. Not even to her own daughter, Ontari.

It's the coughing and sneezing that's the most painful. She has gotten on his case over that; every time he has to sneeze or cough, it's followed by an everlasting groan that mimics the dead in zombie shows. Many people laugh afterwords, while some shush at him for being a nuisance, and then Professor Winters scolds him after the third time, if it were to happen in a row.

"Jonathan Murphy."

The haunting voice is always in the back of his head, the way it sends chills up his spine. A defeated sigh with a cigarette between his teeth, John turns around and greets Anya once more; this time, she's dressed in a business suit. "What now, Anya?"

"I hear that you're studying Psychology," She begins, "Did you know that was my major as well?"

"No, I didn't. I thought maybe your major would be in raging bitch." A smirk.

She smiles as if he didn't insult her, "I'm here as a volunteer. Professor Winters wanted one of her old friends to come in and explain the situation I experience in my office."

"Yeah, you know that you can't hurt me on campus, right? So, your demonstration'll probably go badly."

"I don't intend to hurt you while I'm on clock." Her smile drops, "But you are still in debt."

"No, my dad was in debt."

"And now you are." Her heels click as she moves, manicured nails snatching the cigarette from his mouth and in a low voice, she speaks to him. "You have until the end of the year to come up with fifty thousand dollars, or you won't live to see yourself have children. And, you're not to bring up our past in the classroom, or your time gets cut shorter. Do I make myself clear?"

He doesn't make any noise, or even move. It earns a smile from the woman and a, "Good." before she walks past him.

John looks over his shoulder, with an overwhelming sense of panic beginning to set in on his already broken and bruised ribs.

 _Fuck_ , he thinks.


	2. No Place Like Home

_She never planned this._

_The positive symbol stares back at her, as if it's a dagger and her own fingers are the one meaning to plunge it down deep into the depths of her stomach. She tries to swallow, but her throat is all too dry. All she can muster, really, is the sudden, "Fuck" that rolls off her tongue, followed by holding her head between the palms of her head -- she ignores the fact that the test is digging into her forehead._

_It's weird, that there's two halves of her in this exact moment. One part of her says she can't keep it, and the other part tells her that she has to because she doesn't want to be judged -- not that keeping it won't make her any less judged, either. Especially when it comes out who the father is. Fuck, she thinks over and over: fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! This wasn't supposed to happen. It was just a stupid dare, and he was the one who took it too far, but then again, she never said no._

It's an overwhelming sensation, the fact that every morning as of recent has been her waking up to that memory playing on loop. She groans, throwing a pillow of her head. There's still guilt in the pit of her stomach, but then it's when she hears Madi's cries, does it suddenly go away. Clarke remembers that something good came out of it, and ignores everything that followed thereafter.

Madi cries over the baby monitor, jumping in her crib which makes noise with every bounce. Clarke moves the pillow off of her face, and slowly gains the strength to get up to move about the house that she knows like the back of her hand. When she approaches the nursery and turns on the light, she gets a full view of Madi escaping from the crib -- her leg is half on the gate of the side that which she lays, and the rest of her body is hanging onto the side she wants to be. It earns a chuckle from Clarke, who proceeds to move and scoop her daughter up into her arms.

"I see you're practicing, little one." Clarke rubs her nose against Madi's, earning a giggle from the toddler. "Let's get you some breakfast."

Clarke places Madi in the high-chair after making way downstairs, which prompts another roar of crying from the younger; the mother soothes her daughter with snacks for the meanwhile, earning Clarke a few more extra minutes to finish making pancakes, eggs, served with cut up blueberries, oranges, and strawberries. Positioned onto the toddler sectional plate just right, Clarke hands her daughter the plate with her fork which earns more peace and quiet for her to finish her own breakfast -- the same, only Clarke adds peanut butter to her pancakes and engulfs them with syrup.

She sits at the side of the table, near Madi whose at the front. The two of them eat together, although Clarke does do a stern  _no, eat!_ at Madi when she doesn't choose to eat. She gets halfway through her meal before taking note that her daughter is full despite not finishing the meal, and picks her up, bringing her back upstairs to change her into a fresh diaper and an outfit other than her pajamas. Madi speaking very broken English, tells her mother  _thank you_ before taking off, causing Clarke to run after her.

"Madi!"

She's thankful that her and her mother installed a baby gate at the top of the stairs, because the last thing she'd want is for Madi to go sliding down the stairs and crash into the glass steps. Picking her daughter up, Clarke retreats back downstairs and places her into her own personalized play room -- which gets blocked off, as well. She turns the baby monitor on, as well as the morning cartoons, and goes back to finishing her breakfast. She takes a few blueberries off of Madi's plate for her own gain, and washes the plates alongside any dirty dishes she may have caused.

It's going onto 10:03 AM by the time Clarke decides to get ready; she picks Madi up, once more, and heads upstairs as their usual routine. She places Madi in their room and locks the door so that the youngster won't escape, which allows the tired mother to dress herself. By the time she's done getting dressed, she hears her mother enter the house.

"Hey, let's go get Grandma, okay?" Clarke picks Madi up, who squeals in delight.

As Abby winds down from her overnight shift, Clarke heads to the bathroom to do her hair, make-up and any last minute touch ups.

"I didn't know if you ate or not, so I didn't make you breakfast."

"You're fine, Clarke." Abby smiles, holding Madi in her lap while the two watch a show about a shark. "I'll make us lunch soon."

"I have to run a few errands, but I'll be back after class." Clarke grabs her keys off of the counter near the door, "Love you two!"

Clarke's hair is the last thing Abby remembers seeing before her daughter rushes out the door.

Her car is nothing more than a Kia Optima, circa 2014 that's only costing her as little as $200 a month because, thank god, for used cars at an old dealership. It roars up to life when she gets into the vehicle and turn the car, taking an additional moment to scan through her Spotify account to find her car playlist --- a song labeled as  _Bad At Love_ begins to echo throughout the car with the bass jumping at every beat. She begins to drive out of the parking spot and head her way to the college where she spends her everlasting time in; either there, the library, or at home. It dawns on her this time, that no, she doesn't have a social life.

Swallowing the emotions deep down, Clarke continues driving and makes a promise to think of this later; she doesn't need distractions.

Arriving at her usual coffee stand near the campus, she orders a flavored red-bull along with her usual snickers flavored iced coffee and takes off to find a parking spot. She pulls up to a spot, and after collecting herself and getting out, she realizes that the car next to her is vaguely familiar.

"I thought the Princess goes to pay parking." His voice is smooth as he approaches from behind, having circled around his car.

"Bellamy, not today." She rolls her eyes, shutting her door. "I'm tired."

He peers into her back windows, "Not bringing Madi this time?"

"Why, do you miss her?" She snorts, walking past him.

"I happen to think she's cute, okay? It's surprising Finn has those genes." He trails after her, "And I thought I  _was_ babysitting her this morning."

"No, mom messaged me last night that she was going to be home early. I just forgot to tell you."

He laughs, "Alright. Well, I'll see you after class?"

"I have to head straight home." She pauses, "Madi's birthday is coming up. You know that, right? She adores you."

"I know. Sent any invites?"

"A few. I invited Finn, his family. I was actually heading to the store after school to make formal invitations to pass them out tomorrow."

"Terrible two's. Good luck."

She smiles, turning down the hallway towards her classroom with two drinks in hand.

* * *

She spends almost forty minutes in her car, gel'd nails scrolling absent-mindedly through her Pinterest to find ideas of what to do for a child's birthday party. Some she finds amazing, so she concocts a list of things needed whereas others she ignores, or silently judge. Music plays softly in her car, this time a song titled  _Oblivion_  until she's finally mentally inside of reality enough to realize she has to get going.

Most of the decorations Clarke was hoping to get were either at Michael's Craft store or the Dollar Store. She had visited two Michael's, and overall, four Dollar Stores just to find every little detail. Anything else came from Wal-Mart. Right now, the first thing Clarke wanted to focus on was making the invitations.

Entering through the door, she finds her mother nowhere to be found. Burrowed eyebrows, she looks around and even calls out, "Mom? Mom!"

"Shh!"

The sudden demand of silence causes her to jump, but she finds a teenager boy in the hallway between the living room and kitchen, "Your mom is sleeping."

"Aden." She sighs, kicking her shoes off. "Where's Madi?"

"In here, eating."

"Is it already that late? I'm so sorry." Clarke apologizes, opening the baby gate. "When did my mom call you?"

"Around 3pm." He sits adjourning Madi, and opposite to another teenager his age.

"Hey, Tris." Clarke greets while placing the decorations into the pantry.

"Hello, Clarke." Tris replies with a smile.

"If it's not too much trouble, Aden, can you watch Madi while I make some invitations?"

"Not a problem."

"Thank you."

Retreating upstairs, Clarke strips her clothing free and weasels her way into something more comfortable; loose tank-top that feels incredibly soft, and boy shorts that have white polka dots all around them. She spends a couple of minutes on the invitation design, basing it off of a photo she found previously online and going from there; after using her printer, she prints around fifty copies in case she either messes up --- it's for a two year old's birthday party, how many people does she need to invite to begin with? But, it dawns on Clarke that, she doesn't have that many of her  _own_ friends to invite to Madi's birthday party.

She grabs her phone off of the floor next to her, and scrolls through it.

_Nope, she blocked me._

_Nope, nope, nope._

Not realizing the drama that followed and consequences she had, Clarke finally begins to have it set in that she doesn't really have friends. Not that it bothered her before, but this was  _big_ , this was her daughter's birthday party. With the first year, Clarke had only invited a few people --- close family --- because she didn't want too many people to surround Madi and then confuse, scare, or maybe even hurt her. Now that Madi is somewhat old enough, and has actually developed such a playful spirit with the desire to pounce on people, she'd like for a lot of people to get to know her, but that's not possible if... Clarke doesn't have anyone to invite.

Dragging her hands down her face, she takes a breath when she feels the painful prickling sensation in the ducts of her eyes that begin to blur her vision. Wiping at her eyes, she shakes her head and continues to push forward --- although, her way of pushing forward isn't exactly a good... Idea. She decides to message someone through Facebook.

CLARKE GRIFFIN, 8:41 P.M: Hey.

RAVEN REYES, 8:45 P.M: What do you want?

CLARKE GRIFFIN, 8:45 P.M: I know that.. What Finn and I did was terrible, and I know you'll never forgive me, but I just wanted to let you know that Madi is turning two in two weeks. I'm handing out invitations and I thought maybe you'd like to come and get to know her.

RAVEN REYES, 8:50 P.M: You're joking, right?

CLARKE GRIFFIN, 8:51 P.M: No?

RAVEN REYES, 8:51 P.M: You want me to attend YOUR daughter's birthday party, my cheating Ex's daughter's birthday party? No thanks.

CLARKE GRIFFIN, 9:00 P.M: Okay. I'm sorry.

Raven's typing bubbles pop up, then disappear. It goes on for what feels like an eternity, but she replies with nothing and the bubbles eventually stop. Clarke lays back onto the floor with her phone against her chest and wishes that things could be simple, more easy to maintain and control. Maybe that's her problem --- she needs to control  _everything_ in her situation. She doesn't know why she did what she did, but it happened and there's no amount of apologies she can ever give to Raven, to people she once through were friends, or anything, that could be enough.

She decides to make the invitations nameless, and goes from there. She'd hand them out to people she knew at school and hope they turn up.

Eventually, Aden and Tris leave, leaving Madi with Clarke. She pays them two hundred for their time, and apologizes; which they tell her no worries about. She volunteered once in high-school to help out at their middle-school, which is how she met Aden, and he eventually offered to watch her daughter after some time and aging up; she trusted him, and he's eventually hit a status where all they had to do was call him after a certain time, and he'd be right over --- Clarke thinks that he might just like Madi and would even watch and take care of her for free, where he not wanting to save his money for college.

Tris was someone she'd met recently, and she was dating Aden. Clarke doesn't know that much about her, but if Aden trusts her, then she will, too.

Madi doesn't go to bed until almost three A.M. It makes Clarke wish for that sweet release of death, but she spends an additional thirty minutes to ensure that her daughter is actually fast asleep before picking her up to carry her up to her crib where she'd then plop herself down onto her own bed after taking care of Madi. It doesn't take her long to fall right into sleep after covering up.

* * *

"Why are you giving me one?"

"Because... I have no one else to give it too, and you haven't met Madi yet."

"I've seen her. Cute, but a kids birthday party isn't really my..." A pause, then a shrug of shoulders. "Scene."

"Please, Murphy?" Clarke sighs, "It'd mean a lot."

He rubs at the back of his neck, pondering the thought. "Alright, okay."

"Thank you." Her smile is ear to ear, full of pearly whites.

"You're welcome."

She starts down the hallway, running into a few others and handing out more invitations. She'd given one to Bellamy, and then his younger sister, Octavia. Despite the whole situation with Raven the night prior, she had slipped one in Raven's dorm room; remembering the number after Finn had once told her. Deciding who to trust to give invitations too was a lot harder than what Clarke had thought it to be --- she thought it'd be easy, but after thinking more into it, she didn't want to give out invitations to just anyone; especially not the ones that are expecting a big turn-out with alcohol, hardcore music, and maybe sex in one of the bedrooms.

So, no fraternity party members unless she trusted them.

"Clarke."

"Wells." Clarke replies, a slight hint of shock in her voice. "I haven't seen you in a while."

"No, my dad and I went to Paris. He thought I needed a week or something off of school." He shrugs his shoulders, "I don't see why, my major isn't stressful."

"Like mine?" Clarke chuckles, "Here."

She hands the invitation to him, "It's for my daughter's birthday party."

"Wow, two, huh?" He smiles, "She's got a caring mother. I'll be there."

"Thank you, it means a lot."

 Stress has become such an ordinary thing in her life, and it's surprising that today went as well as it did. She goes about her classes and managed to get out a decent amount, hoping that Madi's birthday party would actually be amazing. It's only when she sees a familiar, regrettable face, does she realize that stress and the universe don't actually let her have her own type of peaceful days.

"What do you want, Finn?" Clarke brushes past him.

"I just wanted to make sure that there was nothing between us." He jogs to keep up, "Seeing as how you avoided me for a year? And didn't invite me to Madi's first party?"

"I invited you, you just didn't show up."

"Tomato, tah-mato."

She rolls her eyes, but stops to look at him. "There's nothing wrong between us."

"Good!" He grins, "I was thinking of inviting you and Madi out to dinner, tonight, actually."

"Why?"

"Because, I haven't seen her in a while and I thought she'd like to get to know this handsome face."

"I'm not separating you from your daughter." Clarke scowls, "Stop trying to make it out like I am. You have full privileged to see her, Finn, the fact that you don't says how much of a coward you are. Does being a father scare you  _that_ much? What is it, you have a girlfriend you want to show off too?"

"No!" Finn shakes his head, "Why do you think that?"

"Because, Finn, you're painting me out to be the bad guy." She begins walking, "Whatever. Just text me the information."

Half of the day passes, before she hears from Finn once again. Late at night, around 7:45pm, saying that he'll be picking them up in less than 30 minutes which causes Clarke to scramble -- she has to get ready, get Madi ready. Anxiety heavy on her gut, she pushes it down until it's non-existent and dresses the both of them. No doubt they're still getting ready when Finn knocks on the door, which she hears from upstairs.

"Abby!!" Finn gleams,

Abby shuts the door on his face.

"Mom!" Clarke shouts from the bathroom, moving to the top of the stairs. "He wants to take Madi out to dinner."

Abby sighs, pressing her fingers to either sides of her temples before opening the door, a faux smile painted across her face. "Finn! It's so nice to see you. Come in, I was getting ready to make dinner. Are you sure you can't stay?"

"No, I have a reservation."

"Oh, what a shame." And she disappears into the kitchen.

He waits thirty minutes.

Clarke picks up  ~~their~~   _her_ daughter and heads down the glass stairs, heels clicking upon every step and with every clicking, she prays that tonight will go smoothly. She's never been one as a praying type -- especially not after her father's death, she would've been but she knows that death is just cold and quiet, there's nothing to prove that he's happy and in peace now that death has graced him. She doesn't believe that her father is actually watching over her; wherever he was, he's probably somewhere that's tormenting him for all of his mistakes because even in death, no one is free of the things they've done.

"Ready to go?" Clarke raises her eyebrows, gesturing to the door.

"Madi, my baby girl. You're so beautiful." He runs a hand down the curve of her cheek, and kisses her forehead.

He's the first one out to ensure the door gets locked behind Clarke, who mouthed to her mother that she'll only be but a couple of hours, hopefully.

Finn's car wasn't always that luxurious, or even more so, that well put together. But, this one was -- it was fancier, something that didn't fit his type, and it raised several questions from Clarke as she grabbed Madi's car-seat from her own car. But, she doesn't speak any of the inquiries, nor does she actually say anything other than the simple  _thank you_ , on top of  _no, that's not how you buckle her in_ and then promptly buckling Madi in herself while Finn, defeated, heads to the drivers side of the car.

Eventually, the curiosity begins to kill her.

"Who's car is this?" Clarke finally asks.

"What do you mean?" He makes a right turn, annoying her gaze.

"This isn't your car. I've seen your usual car, and I've also seen how much you make with your paychecks."

"Speak for yourself." He scoffs, "You have a terrible car, but you have all kinds of money."

"Finn, that's not the point." Clarke counters, "I just wanted to know whose car this is."

"It's Ravens." He sighs.

"What?" Clarke looks around at her surroundings, seeing finally that a raven pendant hangs from the mirror. "Why do you have Raven's car?"

"Because, I was talking to her, and she said my car would be a death trap for Madi tonight, so she let me drive it."

"You're able to talk to her without attitude?"

"Oh, no, I got loads of attitude."

"She loved you, so I don't see why you wouldn't."

His knuckle, turning white, press onto the steering wheel even harder.

"Finn." Clarke swallows, looking at his dashboard. "You're going 50."

"And?"

"The speed limit is 25."

"Get off my back."

"What's the matter with you?"

"I want to do something nice, and not only do you accuse me of stealing something, but you bring up my past with Raven?" He looks at her briefly.

"I mentioned she loved you, I didn't bring up anything else."

He shakes his head, "That's not the point, Clarke. I didn't even need to invite you out tonight, I could've just taken Madi."

"No, you couldn't. I wouldn't have let you."

"She's mine, too." He scoffs, "Isn't that what you said?"

"You don't even pay child support, and ignored her for a year, and now you're going to play father to her?"

He passes a red light, causing Clarke's anxiety to bubble right back up.

"Finn, slow down." He ignores her, prompting a, "Finn!"

"I know how to drive, Clarke!"

It happens suddenly.

The car colliding into another at an intersection -- it hits Clarke and Madi's side, causing them to spiral out towards the sidewalk where their side also crashes into a side of the building. The windshield, shattered and torn, with the passenger side window having been shattered upon impact. Blood dripping down Clarke's head, she doesn't know how long she's been unconscious but by the time that she does awake; police cars, an ambulance, and several firetrucks are nearby the car. Someone in front of her cuts her seatbelt and pulls her out, attempting to put her onto a stretcher but she weasels out of their grasp and gets up, holding onto the trunk where she unknowingly penetrates her hand with more glass.

A hiss of pain, she looks around at the firemen, police officers, and doctors with blurred vision.

"Madi." She says, out of breath. "Where's my daughter? Madi!"

"Ma'am, I need you to stop moving." A female officer runs to her aid.

"Where's my daughter?"

"The little girl in the car?" The officer inquires.

Clarke nods, it sends shooting pain down her spine.

"She was unconscious when we arrived. She's already on the way to the hospital. Please, stop so we can check on your condition."

"Take me to my daughter and then I'll... I'll let.."

Clarke's body buckles underneath her weight, causing her to fall into the Officer's arms. Her eyes, weighted as if she'd never gotten any sleep, begin to close on their own, but not before she's able to read the nameplate the Officer carries.  _L. WOODS_ it states. That's all she remembers, and all she sees before unconsciousness takes a hold of her.

* * *

She wakes up, hooked up to two I.V's with a breathing tube inserted down her mouth. It raises panic, causing nurses to run to her aid.

"Clarke Griffin." An Officer enters the room after thirty minutes, an I.D in hand. Clarke sees that the nameplate says  _L.WOODS_ on it. "You're notorious around the college."

"Am I?" Clarke wheezes.

"Yeah. And you're also pretty well known here at the hospital, given that your Abigail's daughter."

"How do you know about me through the college?"

"Raven's a friend." She offers a tight lipped smile, "That, and I'm actually studying there."

"Are you?"

The officer nods, "That'd be my second bachelors."

Clarke closes her eyes, ignoring the headache that pounds behind her eyes. "Who are you?"

"Lexa Woods."

"Nice to meet you.." Clarke opens her eyes after a moment, "If only the circumstances could be better."

"Yeah." Lexa sighs, "I'm placing you under arrest."

"What? Why?" Clarke's eyes widen.

"For child abuse." Lexa places handcuffs over one of Clarke's wrists, the other around the bar of the bed.

"What?!" Clarke tries to pull free, "I've never hurt my daughter!"

"Finn begs to differ." Lexa says, holding her hand up. "Don't worry, we arrested him for child endangerment with passing two red lights, driving while intoxicated... The works."

"He was intoxicated?"

"Yeah, breathed a .10. My suggestion for you, Clarke, is lawyer up and fight this." She begins to move out of the room, "But, until then, you're confined to this room. I placed two guards outside of your room, and there's been several posted throughout the hospital."

Tears escape from the corner of Clarke's eyes, her chest rising and falling fast. Anxiety pitted in the depths of her stomach, she moves her wrist only to be met with cold metal and a noise that's too rough on her ears. "Hey!" She shouts to the woman, "I demand to call someone."

Lexa stops, taking a deep breath. She turns around, hand reaching for her own cell phone. "Make it quick."

Clarke dials the only number she can think of, and surprisingly, it's not her mother.

"Hello?"

"Raven? It's Clarke."


End file.
